


(if you’re by my side) summer will go on

by purplecity



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: A Pinch of Magic, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Blood and Injury, Childhood Memories, Fluff, M/M, Mentioned Drowning, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28563021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplecity/pseuds/purplecity
Summary: Renjun does not believe in merfolk anymore.There’s no reason to believe when heknowsthey’re real.At least, they should be—otherwise Renjun doesn’t know what to make of the merman currently lying in his bathtub.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 24
Kudos: 142





	(if you’re by my side) summer will go on

**Author's Note:**

> title from [夏が続くから](https://open.spotify.com/track/5HHuPJu00UULB8ZVwYdtcI?si=H5R3km4tTvCWG-fwhnzirQ) by 9mm parabellum bullet (lyrics roughly translated by yours truly)
> 
> please note that the scenes are not in chronological order (mostly switching between present and past)!!
> 
> jaemin’s look is based off of pink betta fish :)

Sitting in Renjun’s open palms is a luminous blue gem. 

What once was a special pendant he discovered at the beach many years ago is now the gateway to a sunny path, hot sand scorching his heels and seagulls crying in the distance.

Malibu. The ocean. A summer of childhood wonders. 

The gem emits a blinding light that swallows Renjun whole. He’s had this pendant with him for over a decade, kept as a good luck charm out of the uncanny belief that the gemstone is no ordinary one.

When Renjun was absentmindedly humming a tune under his breath, it had started singing to him, repeating the same flow of highs and lows.

Dumbfounded and eager to listen, Renjun brings the gem close to his ear. The melody is louder now. He hears syllables of an unrecognizable language and the rhythm of bubbling sea foam. 

Only as he absorbs the melody does he realize that he’s heard this exact voice singing to him before—he just can’t pinpoint when or where.

His eyelids grow heavier with every sweet note until the bathroom fades to white.

  
  


  
  


  
  


Renjun does not believe in merfolk anymore.

There’s no reason to believe when he _knows_ they’re real.

At least, they should be—otherwise Renjun doesn’t know what to make of the merman currently lying in his bathtub. 

The faucet drones loudly as water splatters on the flat of the bathtub. With rolled-up sleeves, Renjun tentatively checks its temperature, adjusting the valves so it’s neither cold nor hot. It’s warm, leaning on lukewarm. It should be good enough. 

He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow and reclines. Inching away from the bathtub and crouched on his knees, Renjun takes in a deep, deep breath and shifts his gaze to its inhabitant. To his multicolored tail, fins, webbed ears. His bare chest faintly rising, falling. His handsome features twisted in pain.

How is this _real?_

Renjun initially thought it was a dolphin or maybe a seal stranded on shore. It was dark outside—past one in the morning—and the colors were difficult to discern. Renjun had to squint as he cautiously stepped closer.

He found an array of silvery pinks. A… fish tail of some sort. Darkened by the night, the gradient looked more like a blunt mahogany, but he noticed slight shimmering of scales under gentle moonlight. 

That was when Renjun seriously contemplated whether he was dreaming or not, and considered that this late night (early morning) walk along the shore could be a mere figment of his imagination.

There are no sea creatures out there who boast a palette of pink and are simultaneously _that_ size. Well, none that he’s aware of. Wild strips of kelp and a broken tree branch strewn nearby were small in comparison to the tail. 

Renjun, curious as ever and mildly concerned, rushed to the creature’s side, and _oh._

The tail belongs to a human torso.

 _No,_ he told himself in disbelief. This _had_ to be a dream—someone needed to pinch him as soon as possible. 

But the faint scent of blood filtered in the salty breeze brought him back to reality. The dark red he thought he saw from the distance, he realized, was fresh blood.

Beyond the blood, there were unsightly gashes, tearing skin and scales apart. A couple wounds perpetually bled, a pool of red slowly expanding on the sand beneath. Soft, strained groans were sounding from the merman’s parted lips. Renjun could not help but grimace at the sight.

“Are, um… Are you okay?” he whispered, unsure if merfolk could even understand human language. “Should I— Do you— Should I take you back into the ocean?”

Apparently, they do.

“No… No,” came a choked mutter, choked from something other than physical ache. “Not there… Not going back.”

Before Renjun thought twice about it, he was dipping his arms underneath the merman’s back and tail, prepared to carry him to his beach house.

It was tougher than he expected. Merfolk tails are apparently heavier than the weight of a fully grown adult. Blood trickled down his arms, leaving speckles alongside his footsteps in the sand. He quietly apologized every time another moan reached his ears. He knew his hands were pressing against open wounds, but this was the only way he could transport the merman into the safety of his home. 

Renjun quickly made it into his home. He never thought he’d thank himself for forgetting to lock the door, but he did exactly that. It would have been impossible to fumble for his keys and try twisting and turning his wrist while keeping the merman hoisted in the air.

He exhaled a breath he had been subconsciously withholding as soon as he stepped inside. 

_How the fuck do you take care of a merman in your house?_

The only logical answer that Renjun could devise was the bathtub. 

The merman visibly winced when Renjun carefully lowered his body into the cold confines of the bathtub. Renjun was scrunching his face too, having seen his injuries shine vibrantly red under LED lights. 

He offered a towel, rolling and tucking it under the merman’s head so it didn’t have to rest against the hard surface. A deep sigh slipped out, echoing within the room. That seemed to alleviate some of his pain.

The water gradually rises. As soon as it reaches the tail, scarlet wisps imitate the haphazard flow. Caked with a mixture of blood and sand and searing pain, the merman shakily groans again. His eyes have been clenched shut the entire time from exhaustion.

Strangely, there’s warm swelling at the edges of Renjun’s eyes. The pain must be unimaginable, yet Renjun imagines it—he _feels_ it. A hazy memory floating like mist, something he can’t grasp before it disappears into the dark. 

The swelling doesn’t stop at his eyes. Far down in his ribcage, there’s a familiar, pulsating ache. He clutches his shirt, disregarding the bloodstain, and seats himself on the chilling tile floor.

  
  


  
  


  
  


The first time Renjun goes to California is to stay at his aunt’s Malibu beach house over the summer. His mother is visiting relatives back in Jilin and his father is, as usual, on a lengthy business trip in Europe. Typically he would go with his mother to their hometown but as an excitable soon-to-be third grader, he craved fun in the American sun. His aunt offered to watch over him and thus, he is flown across the country to the West Coast over the peak of July. 

Incidentally, Malibu marks the first and only time Renjun drowns.

Short on oxygen, Renjun’s adolescent brain does not fully register that it’s dying. The entire sequence—a massive wave crashing into him, floundering under the surface, gulping seawater—feels like a fever dream. 

The arms that wrap around his waist and the muted singing traveling as bubbles to his ears must have been part of his vivid imagination too.

Renjun is only somewhat aware of where he is when he jolts awake by a coughing fit. Greeted by lingering salt on his tongue and his aunt’s distraught face, he dazedly blinks. The sunset over the horizon is a brilliant fire that would blind him if not for the woman hovering above him.

“ _Xiaoyi?_ ” Renjun mumbles before another cough. His voice is gruff. The burn of salt blooms in the back of his throat unpleasantly. “Why are you crying?”

Renjun is assuming he had fallen asleep on the invitingly warm sand. The trail of tears on his aunt’s cheeks and her red eyes imply otherwise, though.

“I’m so sorry, _baobei_ ,” the woman sobs, cupping Renjun’s face with trembling hands. He merely props himself up from the gritty bed, confused. “I should’ve never let you out of my sight. This is my fault, I— I’m sorry.”

Renjun has no clue why she’s crying, but there’s one thing he knows what to do when people cry: hug them. With his sand-coated arms he hugs his aunt’s neck. It prompts another choked sob and the woman hugs him back. Her embrace is so tight he feels he might implode.

The burn in his throat is stronger now; it’s like breathing through a screen of smoke, making his every inhale bitter. And, well, salty. 

“Can I have some barley tea?” Renjun wearily asks.

“Of course you can,” his aunt assures him in the midst of loud sniffling. “ _Xiaoyi_ will make you some cold noodles tonight. I bought extra pears from the market.”

Renjun’s tired eyes flash in joy. He loves cold noodles, especially with chilled pears!

“Okay!”

Renjun follows her as they stand on their feet. A sheet of sand is glued to his clothes’ dampness that his aunt pats off for him. With their hands joined, they take the walk from the rocky beachside to her house. There’s a delighted skip in Renjun’s gait. 

He doesn’t realize he is humming the melody that lulled him to sleep until his aunt asks him about it.

  
  


  
  


  
  


They tell Jaemin to _never_ approach humans, but he is far too young to suppress his curiosity.

He vaguely understands the rhythm of summer and its sizzling heat. When he peeks his head above the water, often hidden by the boulders tossed from the cliff, he sees the expanse of sand is teeming with people. 

He observes in wonder at the way there’s an entire _school_ of humans splashing about the shallow water or simply sleeping under pearl-white trees. What were those things called again—‘umbrellas’? Taeyong only told him the story of humans and beaches once, and it was a long while ago.

His palm flattens against the uneven ridges of the boulder. He presses his cheek to its rutty hardness, eyes widened and glittering in awe. A few humans, smaller and higher-pitched than the others, giggle and flail their arms around happily. Why isn’t he allowed to talk to them? They don’t look like they would hurt him or anything.

“Hey!”

Jaemin startles at the shout, plunging himself underwater. 

That couldn’t have been directed at him, could it? He would get in an unbelievable amount of trouble if they knew he was here, showing himself to people. 

Maybe he should just leave. He _would_ leave but the palace is unbearably boring; there’s always the same games that he and his siblings play and nothing else to do except study or train. His boredom never fails to sneak him past the guards and bring him to shore, closest to the ruckus of humankind he can get.

A shadow seeps through the water, blanketing Jaemin’s being and the space surrounding him. Reluctantly, he glances up. He is met with the face of a small human staring down at him, blurred by the water’s constant currents.

Jaemin gives in to his desires. With a push of his fins, his body emerges head-first from the ocean, and he sees a familiar expression and nest of brown hair.

Renjun is sitting upon the boulder Jaemin pressed himself to just moments prior. Hunched over the edge, his hands grip a couple bumps of rock that jut out for stability. He smiles with all his teeth and joyfully curved eyes.

“Hi,” Renjun says. “Your tail’s really pretty.”

Jaemin’s cheeks flush brightly. So he saw his tail? Does he not find anything strange or scary about that?

“Thanks,” Jaemin squeaks. His webbed ears sway idly like butterflies in the air. It happens whenever he’s flustered. “I like your hair.”

“Oh, thanks!” Renjun smiles again, this time his eyes disappearing completely. Jaemin likes how that looks. “Yours is even cooler though! It’s kinda like cotton candy.”

“What’s that?”

“Like…” He pauses to contemplate. “Really sweet clouds that you can eat?”

“Oh,” Jaemin says, not understanding but nodding anyway. “Thank you. But you can’t eat my hair.”

“I know.” Renjun sends him a weird scrunch of his nose. “Can I touch your tail?”

Jaemin thinks it’s an odd request, but he supposes there are plenty of odd things about humans and he doesn’t have the time to try to unravel everything.

“Sure,” he concedes, then tilts his head quizzically. “Aren’t you gonna get in the water?”

Renjun shakes his head. “My auntie says the water can’t go past my knees. Come to the shore!”

Before Jaemin has the opportunity to rebut and say he _really_ isn’t supposed to, the boy turns around and leaps off the boulder, maneuvering his way in the field of rocks eagerly. He would hate to disappoint him and swim away, so Jaemin does his best to approach the shore. 

With every heave, the ocean’s warm embrace wears off of his body. There comes a point where he physically can’t move further. His scaly tail lacks the friction to slide up the sand as easily as he would like. Here, though, the water laps at Renjun’s shins at its highest, so Jaemin presumes it’s sufficient. 

“Whoa,” Renjun exclaims as he unmasterfully attempts to walk in the water. When he stops just ahead of Jaemin, the malleable floor concaves under his weight, and he nearly falls over. He doesn’t seem to mind—all his attention is on Jaemin. “So cool…”

Jaemin could say the same about Renjun. It’s his first time seeing human legs up close with his own eyes. The toes are so weird—each of them move on their own, and they’re so stubby! He could not imagine a life having stubby fingers at the end of his tail. Or having legs, for that matter. 

Nonetheless, he is fascinated by the concept of walking and standing upright. Humans can swim with those legs too, now that he thinks about it. Isn’t it unfair that he can only swim and not walk, then? 

Maybe that’s the reason why the others say humans and the land are dangerous. They’re simply jealous! Jaemin can’t help but puff his cheeks at the absurdity of it all.

Renjun places his hand on the thick of Jaemin’s tail. Trailing down to the petals of milky fins at the end, Renjun gasps in astonishment, admiring individual bubblegum pink scales and how they’re iridescent in the sunlight. Jaemin winces. It feels weird, but not necessarily bad.

“I told my auntie a mermaid saved me last week. She didn’t believe me,” Renjun complains with a disproving pout. 

“You… remember that?” Jaemin drawls. 

When Renjun nods vigorously, Jaemin is both pleased and upset. While it is true that he saved him, used all of his arm strength to drag him up to shore, Jaemin thought he was fully asleep. He used a song, after all. He used to be confident in his singing, but now he learns he may have overestimated himself and deflates. 

“Your singing is amazing,” Renjun adds, treating it like an obvious fact.

Jaemin’s brows rise. “...Really?”

Renjun nods his affirmative.

Somehow, that compliment alone is enough to brighten Jaemin’s expression. His folks tell him how wonderful his singing is all the time, gushing with pride at how their family hasn’t seen talent like his in centuries. That made him happy and all, but the appraisals grew oversaturated and he became numb to them quickly. 

That’s why Jaemin thinks it’s strange how he feels a euphoric throbbing in his chest at Renjun’s honest and simple _your singing is amazing._

It’s really strange. In a really good way.

  
  


  
  


  
  


“What is that for?”

Renjun twirls his straw hat over his hand like it’s a circus trick. It was a gift from his aunt and simultaneously her way of telling him to _please protect yourself from the sunrays._ He thought it was a vain effort; he was already in the habit of lathering in sunscreen before playing outdoors. Aren’t hats basically just extra sunscreen for your head? 

Renjun’s feet absentmindedly paddle, sending ripples into the ocean. He sits amid the cluster of boulders, now part of his daily routine, and Jaemin converges with him from the waters. This way, he says, people won’t be able to see him. Even in broad daylight, the base of the brooding cliff is shaded and serene. He finds comfort there.

“It’s so the sun won’t burn you too much. And keep your head cool,” Renjun says. “And sometimes just to look cool.”

Jaemin crinkles his cheeks. 

_What is he talking about?_

It’s a question he asks himself far too often in his conversations with the surprisingly talkative Renjun. It’s a bit funny too—aren’t humans the ones who incessantly pry into every curious little thing they happen upon?

“Can I try it on?”

“Yeah!”

Jaemin keenly lifts himself, propped by palms pushing against the boulder. Leaning forward, Renjun fashions the straw hat on Jaemin’s pink tufts, tugging its brim to ensure it fits.

It feels unusual on his head. Merfolk traditionally have head garments as well, though none of them are in this circular, flat shape and encompass the _entire_ head. Not only that, but it’s so light. Even a few ribbons of kelp would be heavier than this thing.

“So?” Jaemin tries a couple ridiculous poses, grinning bashfully. “Do I look cool?”

Renjun giggles. “You look awesome. Better than I do.”

Jaemin’s lips form a pout. “I don’t think that’s true. Here,” he says, grabbing the hat by the dip. Its material is granular in his wet grip. Renjun bows his head patiently and Jaemin returns the hat with a lasting smile. 

“Yeah,” is Jaemin’s soft sigh of adoration. “You look really nice.”

Renjun adjusts the hat, tilting it from the rear end so his eyes aren’t obscured.

“I always do, Jaem,” Renjun jokingly remarks. 

“Yeah. That’s true,” Jaemin agrees in full, innocent honesty.

He wonders if he should comment on Renjun’s ears and how they just flared to a lively coral tint.

  
  


  
  


  
  


Jaemin hardly understands anything that Renjun rambles on and on to him. But listening to him blather about galaxies and planets and picture stories in the night sky is genuinely the most fun he’s ever had. 

“It’s kinda like the ocean, now that I think about it,” Renjun says. Remnants of melted ice cream on his fingers are sticky and he tries licking the glaze. A grain or two of sand is scooped by his tongue. He makes a funny face at the texture. “Outer space is really, really big and dark and cold. You can’t go there unless you have special gear.”

“That sounds scary.”

“It’s not!” Renjun exclaims. He uses a spread of his arms to demonstrate the sheer size. “It’s this huge place where worlds like ours are a tiny pebble compared to everything else. There’s also these cool creatures called aliens who use floating disks to fly across space!”

Jaemin stares at him. “Uh-huh.”

Renjun stares back but with more marvel. “Actually, now that I think about it… You’re kinda like an alien too.” He gasps. “An _ocean alien!_ ”

Jaemin does not know what to say, so his shoulders depress timidly.

“Is that… a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” 

Renjun flashes a sharp pair of canines that dazzle in the sunlight. Every passing second, Jaemin has a surge of confidence in himself. Strange how one smile can melt every bad feeling away. A warm comfort that not even the midsummer sun could compete with.

Renjun’s laugh bursts through his radiant smile. It’s a pleasant melody to Jaemin’s ears. Although humans don’t have unique birthsongs like merfolk do, Jaemin considers this to be Renjun’s. 

It’s a nice song. Unlike anything he’s ever heard before.

“I love aliens, so… I guess that means I love you too!”

  
  


  
  


  
  


A jumble of patterned towels are tossed to the floor. Renjun cycles through them, one by one, dipping them in warm water and taking on the task of cleaning the merman’s wounds.

His towel sweeps at a laceration near the prominent clavicles. The merman reactively winces, shoulders jerking at the touch, and sucks in a tight breath.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun whispers helplessly. “I, um, I know it hurts, but I have to clean it.”

Renjun huffs. These injuries are incredibly grotesque—jagged skin lines every cut on his torso, showing bits of breathing flesh. What on earth could have done these? He could not imagine human blades leaving marks this erratic and uneven. Some malicious sea creature, then?

Whatever it was, it matters little to nothing to him. Renjun tries to focus on treating these injuries, knowing the bathtub water will only act as a temporary sweetener. But he has devastatingly few options.

For one, Renjun has zero medical knowledge. Even if he did, things would likely be complicated by the fact that his patient is, well, not so human. Maybe if he found a person who was both a marine biologist and doctor? That would be a miracle and very, very improbable. 

Calling an ambulance sounds like a horrible idea. He thinks about the merman—that would be like sending a criminal in to the police. Who knows how many metal tools they would poke and prod at him if they had a merman in their clutches. No. Bad, bad idea.

Renjun parts from the bathroom momentarily to frantically search for something, _anything_ that could help. 

He only moved into the house recently. It was his aunt’s before she got married and convened with her wife over in Canada. Incredibly, they chose _not_ to live in the Malibu beach house, a fact that Renjun still struggles to fathom. His aunt’s wife must own a literal mansion for them to not live in _the_ celebrity-laden Malibu. 

Then again, it’s the reason why Renjun now has the honor to take over her home. He really should not be complaining and accept the blessing graciously. 

As far as the eye can see, there are unpacked cardboard boxes littered across every room. Renjun had only unpacked the essentials, which included his clothing, kitchen utensils and electronics. No sort of helpful medical supplies are lying around for his convenience. He’s not sure if he even owns any.

Renjun stills while he is rummaging through a box stuffed with lotions, shampoos and the like. There’s a noise coming from the bathroom—he nearly trips himself on the slick wooden floor rushing to the bathtub.

The merman is slumped over the bathtub wall. Renjun does not need to inspect anything to understand that he is whimpering in pain. Falling to his knees, Renjun slides to the bathtub hastily, his worry racking his features. 

The merman clutches his left arm, knuckles growing white at the tension. 

“Let me see,” Renjun mutters. 

The merman silently complies, pushing his own effort to lean back in Renjun’s grip. There’s new blood dripping, slithering down the bathtub wall. Renjun whispers all sorts of _shh_ ’s and _it’s okay_ ’s to calm the merman, which does seem to work to some extent.

His hand loses some of its strain. In Renjun’s delicate touch, he relaxes slightly. Renjun lifts the arm from where he thinks the blood is originating. He has to turn his head at all sorts of uncomfortable angles, but he does locate it eventually.

“Oh,” Renjun breathes. 

There is a wide gash on the underside of his arm. Not only is there blood dribbling onto the floor but he sees something large, creamy in color protruding from the cut. 

_Oh._ It’s some sort of fang or claw. Hard to the touch, rooted sturdily.

Renjun shuts his eyes. It’s all too much to gaze at, to imagine the pain and _horror_ of being maimed by a surely terrifying monster. 

“You poor thing,” Renjun murmurs, utterly aghast. The merman’s chest soars at an arrhythmic pace. His breathing is so loud, so harsh that Renjun hears every beat resound in himself. 

The panic sets in immediately. _What the fuck do I do?_ The merman must have lost a dangerous amount of blood by now, remembering the gruesome scene at the beach. Even the bathtub water swims in a translucent red dye. Renjun is determined to save this merman’s life, but _how?_

He decides he must act quick in consideration of the bleeding wound. Should he stop the bleeding, tie a shirt or something around his arm? He can do that. But what about that… thing buried in his flesh? 

“Take it,” the merman wheezes, words slurred by his agony. “Take it out. _Please._ ”

Renjun recalls the breathing exercise for when his body is rattled with unease. Close your eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Slow. Nice and easy.

“Okay. I— I can do that.”

Renjun grabs a clean towel from the floor in conviction. He adjusts himself, lowers himself so the arm won’t need to be raised so high in the air. Closer, the dizzying scent of blood fills his nose. But he will not be discouraged by the grisly sight. 

Renjun’s eyes flicker to the merman. He is contorted with unending pain, and Renjun promises to end it for him. Piece by piece. Breath by breath.

“Hold still, okay?” Renjun gulps. He positions his dominant hand, fingers twitching. “This… is gonna hurt.”

  
  


  
  


  
  


“Jaemin, hold still!”

A shrill _snap_ makes Jaemin recoil.

“Um.” Jaemin blinks at Renjun, wondering what the flat square he holds in front of his face is doing. “What was that?”

“A picture.” 

Renjun and the strange square hum together. Much to Jaemin’s shock, another thin, floppy square is produced, except this time it’s ejected from the mouth. 

Pinching the film, Renjun does a content nod at it.

“Look,” Renjun says.

He holds out the photo for Jaemin to squint at. There he is, gaze stunned and lips a round shape, plastered onto the square. He thinks it’s a mirror at first, but mirrors are made out of solid glass and his image does not flutter his lashes like he currently is.

“That’s so weird. Do it again!”

Renjun grins proudly. “Okay.”

This time, Renjun rotates on his butt and reclines as far as he can to place himself beside Jaemin. Jaemin gets the hint even in his recurrent confusion and stretches his spine. 

Renjun presses a button—the self-timer—and endeavors to hold it steady, lens pointed at the two.

They’re cheek-to-cheek now. In fact, Renjun presses his face to Jaemin’s, a smile brushing against his outline. Wet droplets transfer to Renjun’s lips as a chaste kiss is planted onto Jaemin’s cheekbone.

Unaware of what the gesture was meant to be, Jaemin looks to him after the device starts buzzing once more. 

“Did you just try to eat me?” Jaemin asks.

“No!” Renjun giggles. “It’s what we do when we like someone. It’s a kiss.”

“Oh,” says Jaemin. “We have kisses too. Just not like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

A breath disperses along Renjun’s curved neck as Jaemin pokes his nose underneath Renjun’s chin. The crown of his head fits snugly in the groove. Grazing with the smooth of his cheek, he nuzzles into Renjun like he often does to his family.

Renjun chortles loudly. “That tickles, Jaem.”

“I’m kissing you. This is how we do it,” Jaemin replies, somewhat stifled by Renjun’s skin of seawater and sunscreen.

“It’s nice,” Renjun murmurs, voice softening. His head tilts into Jaemin’s pink locks. “So does that mean you like me?”

Jaemin retracts himself. He meets Renjun’s gaze, sifts through his flecks of childlike wonder. He thinks Renjun might be a bit flustered, which contradicts his impression of Renjun being bold and confident in humanly fashion. 

“Of course it does.” Jaemin juts his lips—he thought that was obvious.

“Oh.” Renjun averts his gaze. Seconds later, he returns with animated wrinkles scattered throughout his small, tanned face. “Well, I like you lots. Like, you’re my friend but… you mean more to me than just a friend.”

Jaemin’s ears sway in unison, working against the coastal breeze. What Renjun said perfectly encapsulates how Jaemin feels too. Jaemin wants to express his reciprocation, but he has never been good with words. Especially not human words.

And Jaemin learns how that’s perfectly fine. 

As he and Renjun watch the ocean undulate in its cerulean glory, Jaemin learns for the first time that some things transcend the barrier between humanity and merfolk.

  
  


  
  


  
  


Steadfast in his mission to Bring Jaemin To Land, Renjun had an elaborate plan painted in his mind. 

Sneaking out after dark, he would grab his old wagon, the type that kids can pull around with ease, and the beach toy set with its primary hues faded over time. Using the plastic bucket, he would shovel in seawater for Jaemin to lay in, then finally carry Jaemin into the wagon and there we go! The perfect merfolk taxi.

“I can do it,” Renjun insisted, drawing a diagram of his master design in the sleek canvas of dampened sand with his pointer finger. Jaemin, clueless as ever, nodded his head in agreement and contributed to the blueprint with a doodle of Renjun’s spunky face. Two large dots, a wide arch, sticks for a scrawny body. Smeared and washed away in the wake of a gentle tide.

Suffice to say, Renjun could not do it.

Loading the wagon with water was the easy part, even if his tiny bucket meant Renjun could only dump a small portion in one motion. Jaemin had offered to help, his ‘help’ being the act of cupping his palms and delivering water very inefficiently (which Renjun had no qualms against and encouraged with a thrilled smile).

So Renjun had accomplished step one of his plan. The rest of the procedure should have gone smoothly, but he was soon hindered by some technical difficulties. Two, to be precise. 

One: Jaemin’s tail is heavy. Unbelievably heavy. 

Renjun attempted a bridal-style carry in which he fitted an arm in the fold under Jaemin’s tail, the other arm hooked over his back. Prepared with bent knees and a deep, resolute breath, Renjun tried his best. 

Jaemin did not lift from the sand higher than a couple inches.

Renjun was puffing his cheeks and grumbling in his petulance. Jaemin was mildly concerned and told him a few times that he shouldn’t push himself, but Renjun refused to give up. Renjun was an enthusiastic (aspiring) astronomer, though, and he knew very well he couldn’t strike a deal with gravity. 

Eventually Renjun managed to not lift or carry, but _drag_ Jaemin after locking both his arms around his waist. Jaemin could hear his every wheeze and grunt while he constricted his abdomen and lifted his tail as much as he could, assuming it would minimize his weightload. 

It worked. Sort of. The end of his tail hung outside the wagon’s boundaries awkwardly, quite like a literal fish out of water. His shoulders were clenched because his arms were glued to his sides by the wagon’s narrow space. 

Then the next immediate issue came crashing down to Renjun’s confidence. 

Two: Jaemin’s tail plus the rest of his body _plus_ a wagon full of water is even heavier. 

“Renjun…” Jaemin says, frowning at the sight of Renjun straining to pull the wagon by its handle. The wheels barely budge. Ironically, the wagon seems to be tilting in the opposite direction. “You really don’t have to if you can’t.”

“No,” Renjun grumbles, a slight tremor in his voice. His arms tremble as he exerts a vigorous effort. Jaemin still doesn’t feel himself moving. 

Perhaps in bitter shame, when Renjun finally accepts reality and slumps onto the sand floor, he stares at his toes rather than Jaemin. His shoulders hiccup.

“Renjun?”

“Shut up,” mutters Renjun. Jaemin can see him lifting his arms towards his face.

“I didn’t say anything…”

“S— Sorry.”

Renjun finally turns around with a pink nose and glossy eyes. Water trickles down his cheeks, leaving spectral trails on sunkissed skin. Jaemin quietly gazes at him—why are his eyes doing that?

“I wanted to show you my room at least.” A quivery sigh. Renjun does a snot-laced sniffle from a deep inhale, loud and jarring to Jaemin’s sensitive ears. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? I’m not mad at you.”

Jaemin reaches for Renjun’s hand. He never holds hands with others at his home—it’s something he picked up from watching humans at the beach. Hoping it doesn’t mean anything bad, he looks to Renjun for his reaction. 

Though his face actively scrunches and he makes audible hiccups, Renjun is placated by the gesture. 

“I just wanted you to see how cool it is here,” Renjun says, sighing. 

His bottom lip shivers as though he feels a great chill, in spite of the tepid evening air. Guessing that his lips are cold, Jaemin presses the pad of his thumb to the little crevice at the edge of Renjun’s mouth.

Jaemin glances between Renjun’s lips and his wavering pupils. Shouldn’t his face stay dry, too? With the back of his hand, he tries wiping away the tears. Unfortunately, there’s no part of his body that’s dry enough to act as a towel for him. He actually makes it worse, which he realizes a bit too late.

Regardless, Renjun beams. He happily nudges himself into Jaemin’s careful touch. 

In the end, it’s the thought that counts. They can both agree on that.

  
  


  
  


  
  


Summer break is ending soon, Renjun sadly informs Jaemin on a late afternoon. There’s faint orange bleeding into the sky that shines on Renjun’s hair, now a rich hickory color unlike anything that Jaemin has seen in the ocean.

“But I wanna see you again,” Jaemin protests, his lips pursed in sorrow. “Maybe I can swim to where you live!” he suggests, though deep down he knows he could never pull such a thing off. 

Simply sneaking out for a couple hours is risky. Jaemin has only been successful so far because underwater dwellers are just as busy as the beach humans during summer, thus more distracted. He may be small and slippery, but there are eyes keeping watch on the royal offspring like himself. Though they do seem to care less about Jaemin compared to his older siblings—that’s one good thing out of being the youngest.

Renjun shakes his head somberly. “It’s too far from here. And it’s really cold.”

Jaemin’s chin tilts down. “Oh.”

Renjun frowns. “Jaemin…”

Sensing Jaemin’s disappointment, Renjun resolutely holds out his hand towards him. This time he sits on the smallest boulder there is, stuffed between others that stretch twice, thrice his height. It’s planted further out from the general throng; if Renjun fell he would be completely engulfed by seawater, defying his aunt’s rule about staying knee-high above the surface. 

He isn’t scared of that, though—Jaemin is right by him, watchful. There’s nothing scary about the dark waters as long as Jaemin is gleaming, blithely flapping his tail and sending a light shower Renjun’s way. 

He knows Jaemin would go to great lengths to keep him safe. He really isn’t scared of the ocean at all, not even after nearly dying in its wrath once. He just has to recall Jaemin’s singing and just like magic, his fear disappears with a cloudy _poof._

“You’re… really leaving?” Jaemin meekly asks.

Renjun gives a tight grip to Jaemin’s hand, interlocking their fingers. 

“I’ll come back next summer. Or whenever I can. Then I’ll sit here and we can do this again,” Renjun reassures.

The cheerful veil isn’t enough to hide Renjun’s reluctance in bidding Jaemin goodbye for who knows how long. He would beg his parents to live here with his aunt, but he knows that would be futile. Part of him chides himself for his inability to keep Jaemin by his side when that alone is all they wish for.

It shouldn’t be too much to ask for. It shouldn’t be anything more costly than the newest model of a toy or a new pet animal. But to Renjun and Jaemin’s dismay, it seems the universe—two different worlds—is hellbent on keeping them separated. 

Jaemin’s eyes are large and sullen. “I’ll miss you, Renjun. I really will.” 

It feels strange to have Renjun’s fingers resting in the valleys between his own digits. It’s strangely comforting, as if they’ve always belonged there. It feels worse to think that they won’t be where they belong until the next time they meet. A ‘next time’ that neither of them can clearly define. 

The uncertainty makes Jaemin’s heart race and gills fluctuate.

“I’ll miss you too,” Renjun says, almost a whisper.

“Yeah…” Jaemin trails off. Suddenly remembering something important, his lips part and he gasps. 

Jaemin brings his attention to his bare arm. A few inches above its bend is a pendant, the silver thread looped around his size a few times to keep itself firm. He tugs on the thread, pulling it down his arm. It slips off with ease once it surpasses his elbow. Jaemin dangles the jewelry by his palm for Renjun to see. 

The pendant is of a small sea opal, framed by silvery clasps at its corners. A milky blue gem with umber brown and sandy yellow sparks at its base. Pillars of deep to baby blue gradients mimic sunbeams that diffuse as they pass through the filter of the grand waters. 

A beautiful ocean locked within a tiny gem—a symbol of Jaemin’s home. 

“It’s… really pretty,” Renjun says with a hint of bewilderment. He runs his fingertip on the opal’s smooth surface, entranced by the little ocean inside its glossy shell. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“My grandma gave it to me. She told me it has ancient magic,” Jaemin explains. Here he grows shyer with every word yet his determination remains intact, clinging onto the inner wave that crashes into his heart whenever Renjun goofily smiles at him. “It’s supposed to protect me. So I want it to protect you too.”

Jaemin imagines what his grandmother would suppose of him giving the precious pendant to a human. She would certainly call him a fool, a disgrace to their kind. Maybe she would claim that he’s hurting his ancestors’ spirits inside the gemstone. 

No. She would be wrong. Jaemin thinks the opal looks perfectly content as Renjun cradles it in his hands calloused with the vigor of boyhood.

Abruptly, Renjun lunges forward to throw his arms around Jaemin’s torso. The water splashes, his tail doing a startled flop at the softness of Renjun’s shirt and the strength of his embrace.

Jaemin has never been held like this before. He doesn’t need an explanation, though, to figure out that this is how humans show affection. Or maybe it’s just Renjun—Jaemin doesn’t bother to ask. 

Hugging Renjun back is comfier than sleeping in his bed, he discovers. He used to be convinced his bed was the comfiest thing in the world. 

For the umpteenth time, Jaemin learns something new. Every revelation ties back to Renjun and their time spent together. In a sense, they’re each other’s mentors, guiding themselves through the haze of childhood and beaches and unfamiliar emotions. 

“Jaemin?” 

“Yes?”

“Promises don’t work unless we both say it,” Renjun says, raising his volume. “I promise to see you again. Do you?”

Jaemin tightly clutches Renjun’s shirt. 

“I promise,” Jaemin responds, muffling himself into Renjun’s gently quavering shoulders.

  
  


  
  


  
  


It’s almost like ripping out his own heart—hearing the fang tumble to the floor, thick drops of blood, the merman’s agonized cry.

Renjun’s exasperated sigh lugs him to the bathroom tiles. His hand is still shaking.

“It’s— I got it out,” he huffs, blood rouging his face as he wipes away sweat.

The merman turns his head to the opposite direction, sinking into the soft towel. As soon as Renjun had pulled the object out of his arm, a wave of relief washed over him. Now his chest swells at a calm, subdued pace. A low sigh reassures Renjun that he is fine, for the time being. 

Renjun snatches another towel to wrap around his arm—that is, until he notices it isn’t bleeding anymore. Odd, but this _is_ a merman after all. It would make sense for them to heal differently than humans, wouldn’t it? 

Seeing that the merman has relaxed, Renjun allows himself to breathe deeply, ease his own nerves. Although he isn’t particularly squeamish, the stark chaos of bloodstains on alabaster tiles and his pale hands is a sight that leaves a lasting impression in him. The blasting smell of salty iron is another thing he’ll never forget.

Grabbing the fang, Renjun gets on his feet and travels to the sink. He washes his hands and the thin bone. His eyes widen as the red glides down its shape, revealing what he can only assume are carvings. 

As he closely examines the bone, the truth becomes as bloody clear as the water pooling in the sink.

This is a craft. 

Someone had whetted the bone to sharpen its edges and etched symbols into its flat surface. Rather than a fang, this is a deliberate weapon, made to pierce and ruin. 

Renjun’s eyes fix themselves upon the merman. He lays in the bathtub silently, only his faint breathing indicating life. If Renjun didn’t know better, he would think the merman simply dozed off in the middle of a warm bath. It’s a whimsical idea and his mind focuses on its tranquility for a lingering moment, as if wishing for it to be true.

Renjun abandons the bone at the sink. He doesn’t want to look at it anymore.

Renjun returns to the bathtub’s side, gazing at the merman’s resting figure without a word. His gaze tilts towards the scarlet water, lost in his disorderly thoughts. 

There are so many things he fails to understand about this situation, things he can’t wrap his head around no matter how hard he tries.

The beautiful merman. The mystery behind his injuries. His searing urge to grasp the merman’s hand to prove they’re both real and in the present. 

Him acting on that very urge without a second thought. 

The merman utters something weakly in his delirium. Renjun leans in close. A squeeze to his cold hand to tell him that he is patiently listening.

  
  


  
  


  
  


Jaemin has never screamed so loud before.

The young boy furiously thrashes around to no avail. Jaehyun and Taeyong’s muscular arms forcibly cage him in place and neither of them appear happy about it. Their faces are grim. The others surrounding them sport disappointed expressions.

“No! You can’t do that to him!” Jaemin shouts in protest, helplessly watching the enormous bubble carry an unconscious Renjun to the royal mystic. He bares his teeth, trying to bite at the arms suppressing him, but it’s no use. He isn’t nearly as strong as the older two are.

“Jaemin,” Taeyong says gently, but there’s a hint of his strictness in his tone. “This is for your own safety.”

Jaemin whips his head around. Panicked, enlarged eyes flicker between Taeyong and Jaehyun in disbelief. The sense of betrayal stabs him in the back of his throat and he loses his words entirely. 

_His safety? No—Renjun would never hurt him. Never. He’s not just any human. He’s special._

Another attempt to break free of his restraints is unsuccessful. His hands balled into fists pound at Jaehyun’s unrelenting forearms. The much larger merman merely sighs at Jaemin’s fit of rage, tightens his grip so all Jaemin can do is wail into the ocean.

“We can’t expose ourselves to their kind,” Jaehyun reminds Jaemin, who knows it all too well. Hundreds of times his family and teachers have drilled the same warning into his head, so much so that his temples ache every time he hears it now. “It’s dangerous for all of us. Not just you.” 

The royal mystic places her hand on the swollen bubble. There’s a certain glint to her eyes staring at the sleeping Renjun. No— _glaring._ She regards him as though he’s a dirty stain that she wants to purge as soon as possible.

She begins to mutter words under her breath, ritualistic symbols on her cheekbones and eyes eerily glowing white. 

No, no, _no!_

Jaemin screams again. This time Jaehyun has to stuff his frantic cries with his palm. 

Jaemin claws at Jaehyun’s hands, nails digging into skin, shrieking in the desperate plea for his cries to reach Renjun’s ears and to stop this madness. 

The light erupts from the mystic’s hand, rooting throughout the bubble to envelop Renjun. In his induced slumber, Renjun’s body reacts to the magic by writhing, curling into a fetal posture. 

Jaemin’s father is with his emerald sceptre, watching everything unfold without a single drop of emotion in his hardened, aged features. He casts a dark gaze upon Jaemin that even the royal guards Jaehyun and Taeyong shudder under.

Today marks the first time Jaemin experiences crushing despair—something akin to a little boy drowning in the ocean.

  
  


  
  


  
  


“ _Baobei,_ I told you about napping on the sand.”

“Huh?”

Renjun rubs his eyes drowsily. His lids crease and blink rapidly in the relentless sunlight. To his right is his aunt, helping him up from the sand.

“You didn’t even bring your towel?” she asks, frowning.

“Oh,” Renjun mutters. “Sorry. I don’t remember sleeping.”

His aunt sighs fondly. “It’s alright. How about we wash the sand off your feet and get some food? Do you have your sandals?”

“Hold on, _xiaoyi._ ”

Renjun rises on his bare feet and searches the vicinity. He finds his pair of sandals half-buried in a shallow ditch a few meters in front of him. During the process of unearthing them, his peripheral vision catches something shining beneath grains of sand. 

Brushing sand away with the back of his hand, Renjun pauses when he makes contact with a smooth, chilled surface. It's a necklace with a blue gem that he frames between his fingerpads.

Renjun brings it close to his eye to study the item in full sunlight. Gazing in awe at its pretty colors that remind him of the ocean, a wondrous smile floats on his lips. He just found a treasure!

“Did you find them, Renjun?”

“Yeah! I’m coming.”

Renjun quickly stuffs the pendant into his pocket and grabs his sandals, jogging back to his aunt.

  
  


  
  


  
  


When Renjun wakes up to the bloodied bathtub, there’s a name on his lips.

“Jae… min?”

He lifts his head from its resting place on his arm, having fallen asleep for some reason while watching over the merman. He notices their hands are still connected—and that he’s not the only one tightening the shared grip. 

“Jaemin,” Renjun mutters to no one except himself. The name flows out like a gentle tide, lapping at the sandy shore of his tongue. “Jaemin,” he says again, louder, the sudden rewind of drowned memories empowering his voice yet at the same time causing it to tremble. 

Jaemin. That’s his name. The merman—this is Jaemin. 

Renjun remembers it. 

He remembers the sun browning the back of his neck, his legs and arms. He remembers diving into the ocean once and falling asleep to a lullaby. He remembers a pretty pink tail with matching webbed ears and cotton candy hair. 

He remembers the magical pendant and melancholy promise. 

He nearly laughs in his state of overflowing euphoria. He supposes that’s one thing his seven-year-old self was right about: promises really don’t work unless two say it together. 

“Renjun,” Jaemin hoarsely returns, lashes fluttering. Renjun breathes in deeply, shakily. A turbulent ocean of emotions roars inside of him. 

“Yeah… Yeah, Jaem, it’s me. Renjun,” Renjun says with crackling breaths. An unbelieving chuckle sputters out, mixed with a soft gasp and choked back tears. “I remember everything.”

Jaemin slowly turns his head towards Renjun. Through his pain he blinks his eyes open, just barely peeking wavering pupils past his heavy lids. They’re just as iridescently lime-green as he remembers them. 

Renjun wipes at the creases of his own eyes.

“Your pendant,” mutters Renjun, lifting the pendant in his hand. The aura of light remains, pulsating in placid motions. Jaemin languidly outstretches his arm and without a word, Renjun understands. Jaemin’s palm becomes the foundation for the blue gem; Renjun’s palm is its firm blanket.

Their fingers weave each other’s lines and knuckles. Renjun’s grin stretches wide. 

“It really did protect me all these years. Just like you said.”

For the first time in a long while, Jaemin’s lips curl into a smile.

“Just like I said,” Jaemin whispers.

The gem begins to pleasingly hum once again. Renjun recognizes the tune as the one Jaemin had sung for him underwater that fateful summer day—Jaemin’s birthsong. It’s supposed to be something personal, something unique that defines him as a merman yet Jaemin had selflessly shared it with the little human boy he saved from drowning.

Jaemin’s birthsong is the symbol of his life. He gave Renjun his life the day he held him by the waist and sang his melody. He brought a breath of life to Renjun’s lungs and now Renjun breathes the crisp air for him. 

Land or sea—it doesn’t matter. It never has.

The opal’s light spreads from their palms pressed together, slithering down their forearms to the bathtub water. Seemingly absorbed, the light flourishes in the water and before they realize it, the entire bathtub is sparkling.

Jaemin’s entire body visibly loosens in the light’s embrace. The red on his skin and scales, swimming in the water is gradually imbibed to nothingness. The water is rendered crystalline clear; Renjun sees his reflection, a face no longer painted in blood. Jaemin’s cuts and gashes close themselves, Renjun watches in astonishment, until Jaemin is his unmarred self once more.

Jaemin is just as Renjun remembers him: the most beautiful creature he has ever laid his eyes on. An endless gamut of pink scales gleaming in a mystical light that follows him everywhere like a guardian spirit.

Rid of the pain, Jaemin graciously blooms to his true self—a charming smile, eyes dazzling in adoration for the special human staring back at him. Though, now that he’s older, the adoration is a bit different from when they were young. 

It’s a comforting _crash_ of waves in his heart that no ocean out there could compare. 

Jaemin’s hands reach for Renjun uplifted cheeks, cupping his face. He decides to try something Renjun taught him that he’s always found himself reminiscing under the deep blue. Inclining forward, Jaemin’s lips plant a terse kiss on the tip of Renjun’s nose.

Red-faced, Renjun laughs at the touch of wet lips. Jaemin can’t help his own soft chuckle—he missed hearing Renjun’s birthsong.

Renjun leans in too. Jaemin thinks it’ll be a mirrored kiss but to his surprise, Renjun ducks his nose underneath his chin, brushing plump cheeks and silky hair against Jaemin’s neck.

It’s incredible. Despite all the kisses his kin have given him, despite the fact that Renjun is no merman, this kiss is what makes Jaemin feel the most powerful sense of belonging. Of home, indicated not by a warm bed but rather someone’s warm touch. 

“You finally got strong enough,” Jaemin muses.

Meeting Jaemin’s affectionate expression, Renjun gazes at him, puzzled. “Huh?”

“To bring me onto land.”

It takes a second. 

“ _Oh,_ ” Renjun says with a laugh cut off by a sniffle. It takes another second for him to compose himself. But his tears are hard to keep at bay and frankly, there’s little significance when he and Jaemin both are bejeweled in waterdrops anyway. “Yeah. I sure did.”

Their foreheads meet like a pair of magnets as do their nosetips, exchanging enamored gazes. It’s not anything strictly human or merperson but that’s the raw essence of their bond—something unprecedented that only they can define through each other’s curious existence.

“You got taller,” Renjun notes, smiling with his eyes. “A lot taller.”

“You haven’t grown much,” Jaemin supplies, to which Renjun scoffs lightheartedly.

“I’m counting your fins in your height, Jaem.”

“I know. I just mean that you haven’t changed at all.”

Jaemin’s thumb idly rubs into the hollow of Renjun’s cheek for no reason other than simply wanting to feel him. 

It’s been so long.

“Welcome to land, Ocean Alien,” Renjun says, his voice delicate and tender. 

“Thank you,” Jaemin whispers, “It’s a nice place.”

Jaemin doesn’t even think when he presses his lips to Renjun’s.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/purpIecity) [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/pasupa)


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